


In the tradition of war

by A_Nobelmonster



Series: Dead Ravens don't break [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Abuse, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, dominant kevin, dub-con, submissive riko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Nobelmonster/pseuds/A_Nobelmonster
Summary: Oh, my lover, my lord.





	In the tradition of war

**Author's Note:**

> for shihoran on tumblr, with love. i tried.

Bones can only heal when they are set properly. Riko can only heal when he is broken, perhaps the two concepts share very little in similarities other than the visceral nature of something being snapped bodily into place.

Riko is on the floor slumped beside his computer chair playing with one of the wheels. The bruise on his untattooed cheek says ‘i have been reprimanded because I dare to live’. This is how it goes. With the unforgiving willow of the Master’s cane and the malleable flesh of Riko’s body, With the drugs Riko takes so he doesn’t have to acknowledge the pain and the almost pain or pain at times Kevin must give him to move on from the deeper reasons for the beatings.

The Raven captain cannot ask to be taken care or soothed, not sober. He cannot allow himself the room to be whole when Tetsuji’s disappointment seeps hot as tea into his nightmares. He cannot. Riko takes a pill and Kevin pulls Riko into bed, into his arms watching as the pliancy of the drugs brings out the soft underbelly of Riko’s inner child.

“Give me your hand.” Riko tries while he stares at the chair wheel, his hand slides water soft from Kevins. Kevin loves Riko soft. Submissive .It endears Kevin’s loyalties. He places his hand on Riko’s jaw manipulating the smaller man onto his back to kiss Riko’s forehead. “Hold on to me.” Riko’s hands cling to him already, surely as ever even when they are feet apart from each other dressed in the battle gear of pads and blood. Kevin grabs him under the arms helping him to the bed in the center of the room. long since twin beds pushed together in adolescence.

They have never talked about this, they have never needed to. When Kevin is at his limits he must be pushed even further. When Riko is starting with the abyss heavy under his heart and tongue, he must be pushed down.

“Hips,” Only in this time can Kevin really lead. Riko does not lift his hips, unable to comprehend coordination beyond drawing Kevin’s hand back to his jaw smothering the bruising there with gentle heat.

“What was it this time.” Riko’s eyes dart around the room beneath his eyelids though he’s not asleep or even close to it. “This time, What was it Riko?” he repeats himself slowly while idly pulling at Riko’s lips to check for traces of blood, marks of teeth.

“My temper is too hot and my eyes are too cold and I will never be old.”He turns his head to kiss the tip of Kevin’s ring finger. “No, I will never be old.”

“What do you want?” Salvation is not an option. Riko’s hand snakes its way up his body pulling Kevin’s finger into his mouth. There is so much they say without talking.

Tonight there is no need for a pretty scene, Riko wouldn’t be able to focus for it. He looks lost and small bared from the waist down sucking Kevin’s fingers. Kevin wants to bask in it, to lap it up in its entirety and hold it in his teeth as an intoxicant.

Limbs like taffy take moments of pushing, pulling, chiding Riko into place against the headboard.

“Sit still.” he withdraws his fingers to Riko’s unsettled whining. Kevin rewards it with a kiss. “Be still, I only want to hear you speak if it’s my name.”

Ravens are smart, cunning as they are pretty. Riko spread his legs to entice under the guise of submission. Like he is still in charge. Sometimes, spanking or pain play works for Riko. Kevin warms him up to the right temperature under his belt and the sex, tear-stained as it is is cathartic.

More often kindness is a worse pain to Riko.

Kevin leans forward breath heavy on Riko’s dick semi-flaccid under the weight of the drugs. He leans past to kiss the joint of Riko’s thigh, lick bruises into the soft inner portion of Rikos thigh that trembles when Kevin whispers once more for the smaller raven to be still.

Tetsuji’s bruising tells Riko that he is unwholly. The nebula’s from Kevin’s teeth that worry pinpricks of deep red into his flesh say that Riko is the universe.

The only one that talks are Kevin. Riko’s mouth, a clam that opens to reveal its magnificence only when properly scorched. When Kevin’s hand pin Riko’s wrist together while simultaneously dripping lube across the bed cover. Kevin’s mouth against the wet openings of Riko’.

the thrill of seeing Riko’s muscles tense as Kevin fingers him does not dissipate.

“I want to hear you” and each finger coax’s Riko to comply. Three fingers in, Riko stutters on gods name and Kevins. The drip of lube from Riko’s ass is nowhere as obscene as the sound it makes, it is a truly holy thing Kevin would agree. A filthy freedom in the canting of Riko’s pelvis to seek more.

“I’ve got you, your alright.” Riko’s chest is heaving, roll after roll of black tsunami in the material of Kevin’s home game jersey. 

He lets go of Riko’s hands instead insisting on their place in the long curls of Kevin’s hair upon the crown where they were born to lay.

Riko won’t last long with Kevin’s mouth on him and Kevin’s fingers in his ass having found Riko’s prostate years ago. Kevin’s body hasn’t forgotten since addicted to the taunt stretch of pale caramel skin rising and falling from the bed. Four fingers, sweat rolls from Riko’s lower back. From his thighs.

If Kevin’s mouth were not full if the drag of Riko’s dick in his mouth was not all consuming as it was he would mourn the chance to speak Riko into ruins. To tell his how perfectly he was crafted from the heavens, how wicked the heat from his body raced Kevin’s blood, How no matter Riko’s monstrous nature Kevin would understand.

Tightly wound brushstrokes of white in his hair Riko’s orgasm is a breathless cry. the snap of wings into flight. Kevin’s tongue brushes the tip of Riko’s dick, thinking better of the situation he pulls back as his hand continues to pump Riko. Riko’s eye’s intent on the red shine of salvia of Kevin’s top lip, the cum gathered on the bottom, do not stray.

Collapsed against the pillows Riko waits as Kevin finishes, stroking himself with Riko’s cum, Kevin’s cheek resting against Riko’s as he paints Riko’s hole. Kevin stay’s boneless against Riko’s front. His longer hands gather cum and lube to watch Riko jerk weakly from continued stimulation pushing back into Riko’s hole.

Not to prepare Riko for anything more but to claim.

“You’re mine,” And Kevin was his but that much was set in stone already. It was carved into the foundation of the hanging gardens. 

Hagia Sofia. 

the bones of prophets. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours.” After all, what is a King if nothing without his servants.


End file.
